


The Amber of This Moment

by Wynn



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Brief reference to Luna/Nyx, Drama, Feels, Fluff, M/M, Noctis and Luna are BFF, Noctis is Bad with Words, Of the Awkward Teen Boy Variety, Romance, Spoilers for Brotherhood anime, Spoilers for Kingsglaive, Spoilers through Chapter 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:26:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9665432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wynn/pseuds/Wynn
Summary: Listen:Noctis Lucis Caelum has come unstuck in time.One moment, he’s in the Crystal, drifting from Bahamut, aware, now, that he must die. The next, he’s in his apartment in Insomnia, on his couch, playing video games with Prompto. A gift from the Oracle, apparently. An opportunity for a second shot.





	1. In the Grip of the Crystal

**Author's Note:**

> I have written many incomplete things in the last 7 months, in 3 fandoms. I'm happy to be posting something finally, something almost finished too (part two is handwritten; I just need to type and edit it; I'm aiming to post it next weekend).
> 
> The title and modified first line are from _Slaughterhouse Five_ by Kurt Vonnegut. That's about all the fic shares with the book, Noctis in few ways similar to Billy Pilgrim.
> 
> Apologies for typos. I've edited, but some have still slipped through. I will correct them as I spot them.

Listen:  
Noctis Lucis Caelum has come unstuck in time.

One moment, he’s in the Crystal, drifting from Bahamut, aware, now, that he must die. The next, he’s in his apartment in Insomnia, on his couch, playing video games with Prompto.

He’s so surprised that he drops his controller on the floor. Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles outside, and when Prompto turns to him, his brow creased in concern, Noctis thinks, oh, _oh_ -

This is the night he fell in love.

*

After video games, they’d proceeded to a movie, some film about the fall of the gods that Prompto had been _raving_ about. Sure, it was going to suck, but it was pretty, Noct. So very pretty. And he’d launched into a near ten-minute explanation of the movie’s director of photography and the special equipment he’d used, some sort of focus and filter that made the colors of the film just _pop_. And Noctis remembers looking at Prompto then and becoming aware of the soft, dumb smile on his face, and just the bone-deep sense of contentment that he felt at being there, with Prompto, and he’d thought, oh, _oh_ -

I’m in-

*

Now he stands and turns away from Prompto, only to trip over the controller and stumble onto the train in time to watch Prompto, not Ardyn, _not Ardyn_ , fall, and Noctis thinks, oh, _oh_ -

Not again.

*

Ardyn hits him and he falls too. He should, he thinks, he _should_ , but he doesn’t. He opens his eyes and finds himself on solid ground instead, in a chair, but a second later he alters the assessment, the feel of the armrests, of the seat beneath him, too familiar.

A wheelchair.

He’s in a wheelchair.

 _His_ wheelchair.

Noctis holds a book in his hands, one about Cosmogony, and he looks up to find, as before, so long ago now, but the memory still so clear, Gentiana sitting in one of the chairs by the window. She turns her head toward him, and Noctis waits for her to speak, to comment on his recovery after the Naga attack, but she says nothing, she merely stares at him, and then, strangely, improbably, this didn’t happen back then, she opens her eyes.

“Ah,” she says. “The King of Kings is in the Crystal.”

“What?”

Noctis expects to voice his surprise like a child, but his voice sounds like _his_ voice. Looking down, he finds himself in the wheelchair, but dressed as he was when he was taken by the Crystal. Breathless, he looks again at Gentiana, at _Shiva_ , he now knows, who has stood to face him.

“Do you know what’s happening to me?” he asks.

Gentiana nods, once. “You are in the grip of the Crystal. In the grip of Time.”

Noctis frowns at that and pushes himself up from the wheelchair. “Of time?”

Gentiana nods again.

“Why?”

“At the behest of the Oracle.”

Noctis goes still. “Luna?”

Gentiana nods a third time.

“Why?” he asks as he moves toward her. “Is this going to help me defeat Ardyn?”

“No.”

Noctis stops.

“You know all you need to defeat the immortal. You must simply wait for the Crystal.”

Noctis frowns again. “By going back in time?”

“No. That is the gift of the Oracle, one that you already know.”

Gentiana points behind him. Turning, Noctis finds Umbra sitting by the door to his room, his stare as deep and unfathomable as Gentiana’s. As Luna’s had been. Noctis had only used Umbra’s ability twice since the dog had come to him- once after Prompto had fallen from the train, Noctis going back to before and indulging in the innocence of the past, at least until the thought of Prompto’s current plight compelled him to the present again. And then once in Zegnautus Keep, Noctis lost and alone and running out of hope, just a quick trip back, a quick night spent with the guys in Lestallum, buying spices with Ignis, watching Gladio flirt with some power plant workers, and wandering the streets with Prompto, looking for something worthwhile to photograph.

“This is different,” Noctis says, turning back to Gentiana. “This is taking me places that I’ve already been. Times that I’ve already lived.”

“But lived well?” Gentiana asks as she tilts her head to the side.

Noctis freezes at the question, then again at its implication. “Wait. Are you- Can I change the past?”

Gentiana straightens her head. “Time is malleable. What must be will be. You know your fate. This cannot be altered.”

“But the rest?”

“The rest belongs to you.”

Noctis whirls, Gentiana not the one to answer him, but-

“ _Luna_.”

She stands by Umbra, clad not as he last saw her in Altissia, but in his vision on the train. He’s moving toward her before he’s aware, reaching her, reaching out, yet he hesitates at the last moment. Luna, as always, flies where he falters. She closes the distance between them and draws him into a fierce hug. Noctis feels his breath hitch, feels again the guilt that paralyzed him on the train. If he had been faster, if he’d been stronger, if he’d realized the truth about Ardyn earlier, or defeated Leviathan on his own, then maybe, maybe-

“No.”

Luna pulls back from him. There are tears in her eyes, too. She lifts a hand and cups the side of his face, the gesture reminiscent of Gladio comforting Iris, or Ignis comforting him.

“You could not have saved me,” Luna says softly. “I needed to succumb to the night for you to save us from it.”

Noctis feels his breath hitch again, the sob pressing tight in his chest. “But not you.” He looks at Luna a long moment before shaking his head. “This time should be yours. You spent your whole life preparing for this, for doing your duty. I-”

“Lived.” Luna drops her hand from his face to clasp one of his. “You lived, Noctis. As I am now. Just by different means.” She looks away from him, down to Umbra.

“But that’s not-”

Luna meets his eyes again. “It’s not what?”

 _Real_ is on the tip of his tongue. It’s not real. As if Luna knows, and perhaps she does, Luna always wiser than Noctis, always better and good, she smiles. “Oh, Noctis. It _is_ real. Just in a different way. In the way that I require.”

“What is that?”

Luna regards him as he had her just moments before. A few seconds pass then she says, quietly, “I regret no part of my life. Only its lack of time. With Umbra, I have time. Time to live as I had not. And with those I could not.” 

She pauses then and a faint blush colors her cheeks. Noctis raises his brows. Luna ducks her head, but he sees her soft simile. He watches, fascinated, this a side to Luna that he’d never seen before. He’s about to ask her what, or who, she means, when a shift of her hair brings her meaning to light.

“Nyx? Nux Ulric?” Noctis looks from the thin line tattoo on the side of her neck back to her face, in time to see her flush darken. “When did this happen?” he asks, laughing, but then he stops, knowing when. It happened the only time it could have happened, in the few days before the false treaty and fall of Insomnia. Luna’s claim about needing more time clarifies, Nyx sacrificing himself, according to Cor, to save the city. To save the world.

Noctis squeezes Luna’s hand. She glances up at him. A soft smile appears on her face when she spots his. “I’m happy for you,” he says. “You deserve-” He flounders a moment and then stops, struggling, as always, to articulate. The seconds pass. Luna squeezes his hand now, returning his comforting gesture. He swallows against the sudden lump in his throat, yet finds the word he means. “You deserve everything.”

“As do you.” Her face grows tight, some emotion flickering within. Luna lifts her hand again to his cheek. Her palm is soft, her touch warm. “Do not let fear rule over you so. Do not let yourself be alone again. Do not let him,” she adds after a moment.

Noctis again goes still. His pulse kicks up and his breath comes fast. “I don’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Luna drops her hand, but she holds his gaze. Noctis can’t look away, he can’t turn away, he can’t deny what she implies and what he knows and what she, too, does.

Prompto.

He had wished it, hadn’t he, to see through Ardyn’s lie, to save Prompto from his torture in Niflheim. 

And he had wished it, hadn’t he, on a rooftop inn in Longwythe, wished that Prompto had spoken to him earlier, that they had known each other longer, that they had become friends sooner.

And he had wished it, hadn’t he, on his couch beside Prompto as a storm raged outside, wished he could close the distance between them, that he could be anyone other than who he was, the Prince and heir of Lucis, that he could-

Noctis turns from Luna and closes his eyes.

*

He opens them in time to watch Prompto, not Ardyn, _not Ardyn_ , fall from the train, and he thinks, no, _no_ -

Not again.

*

“How long do I have?” he asks, standing once more before Luna.

“As long as the Crystal allows. Let it guide you. Then let this,” she says, touching a soft hand to his chest, to the place above his heart.

Noctis nods. He stares at her a beat and tries to think of a fitting goodbye, or at least a thank you, for this, for Altissia, for his childhood, for her friendship, for everything. But nothing comes. Instead, Noctis places his hand over hers where it lays on his chest and hopes that it conveys a little, or at least enough. He must succeed some for tears begin to glimmer in her eyes again. Luna moves her hand and pulls him in for another hug, perhaps the last.

Noctis closes his eyes. He draws in a deep breath. Then he steps back. “Say hi to Nyx for me,” he says when they lock eyes.

Luna lets loose a soft laugh. “And you,” she says, easing back to stand beside Umbra. “Tell Prompto that Pryna says hello. And that so do I.” She pauses and a twinkle appears in her eye. “Consider it a conversation starter.”

With that, she touches Umbra and the two vanish. Noctis glances back over his shoulder, but Gentiana is long gone. He is alone. Turning back around, he eyes the wheelchair. Luna’s remark about fear, about Noctis being alone, drifts through his mind. He had been alone. And so had Prompto. The pudgy boy in glasses always in the periphery, watching. No. Waiting. Waiting, Noctis realizes now, until he felt comfortable enough to speak to him. Could Noctis go all the way back to the beginning, could he change it so he was the one who approached Prompto? Should he? How much after would change? How many chances would he have to change what he wanted to change? Noctis stares at the chair, hesitating. Luna had said to let the Crystal guide him, to take him when it will. The first trip hadn’t been to that first meeting so long ago. It had been just two years prior. He and Prompto had barely been a month graduated, yet Noctis was already tiring of his increased duties as the heir to the throne. He hadn’t known how much longer he’d be allowed to stay at his apartment, or how much longer he’d be able to have a life beyond diplomacy, beyond the realm of ruling. He’d treasured each night that he got to spend with Prompto, that he got to be Noct, not Noctis Lucis Caelum, Crown Prince of Lucis.

Noctis moves closer to the wheelchair. He’d done nothing that night after his realization. He had tried to keep his focus on the movie, but his gaze kept straying over to Prompto, kaleidoscopic in the bright light from the tv. Noctis remembers his mouth going dry, his heart beating fast, and then Prompto had looked at him, his eyes dazzling and mouth open to speak. But then he’d frozen, catching the stare, and flushed. And Noctis had too. He’d thought, for a moment, of saying something, but then he’d thought for another moment and then hesitated, before thinking some more and turning away, slumping down into the couch and into the grips of fear. Prompto had too, and the rest of the movie had passed stiff and silent.

Silence had followed the crawl of the credits, too. For the second time that night, Noctis’s mouth had gone dry and his heart beat fast. He’d almost laughed at the realization that fear was a whole lot like love, but he couldn’t, the fear in him too strong, so he had sat, silent and still.

It had been Prompto, as usual, so much brighter, so much braver than Noctis, who broke the ice.

“So,” he’d said with a stilted laugh. “That bad, huh?”

Noctis had glanced over at Prompto, had seen the glimmer of fear in his eyes too, and this, finally, compelled him to move. “Well, it’s no _Zanarkand_ ,” he said with a shrug.

It had been enough. Prompto had groaned, had dramatically thrown his head back onto the couch and launched into another rant about how he couldn’t believe that Noctis liked that movie, how there had been no inspiration in the camera work or the cinematography, and how Noctis and Gladio must have had behemoth brains to find the acting in any way appealing. And with that, the equilibrium had been restored, and Noctis had locked his epiphany away. Friendship was enough.

It had been enough.

But he didn’t want enough.

He wanted more.

Drawing in a deep breath, Noctis sits in the wheelchair and closes his eyes.

*


	2. The Carousel of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So one week = three months, right? A bit of a writer's block when I changed a few things in the second part, coupled with me descending into _Yuri on Ice_ madness, account for the delay. But at least it's finished and hopefully an enjoyable read (and not horribly beset by typos despite my proofreading).

He opens them to his apartment in Insomnia, to Prompto sitting on the couch beside him, to the storm gathering outside, and to a second chance, one improbably, miraculously, falling into his lap. A second chance in which to tell Prompto how he felt-

Noctis blinks.

To tell Prompto how he felt-

He swallows.

To tell Prompto-

The breath stills in his chest. 

To tell-

His mouth goes dry.

To speak-

His heart starts to beat fast.

To _talk_ -

He’s so unnerved by the realization he loses his grip on his controller, and it clatters to the floor. Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles outside, and when Prompto turns to him, his brow creased in concern, Noctis thinks, oh, _oh_ -

Shit.

He has to use his words. But he has no words. He never has words. Words hated Noctis and Noctis hated words and-

“Noct? You okay?”

Noctis jerks. His head snaps toward Prompto, who stares at him, his eyes big and wide and so, so blue, soft and warm and worried about him. Noctis swallows again. His tongue feels thick in his mouth. Maybe he does have a behemoth brain. A behemoth brain and a behemoth tongue and a-

Noctis jerks again when Prompto places a hand on his shoulder, as warm and soft and worried as his eyes. Shooting up, Noctis turns away, only to trip over the controller and stumble onto the train in time to watch Prompto, not Ardyn, _not Ardyn_ , fall, and he thinks, no, _no_ -

Not again.

*

Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles outside. Noctis blinks and his apartment clarifies around him once more. He grips his controller in his hands. Prompto sits beside him on the couch. What was this? The third, no, the fourth chance? How many more would the Crystal give him? Noctis pulls in a careful breath. He keeps his controller firmly in hand. He would be calm, he would be cool, he-

-jumps as Prompto whoops and shoots up from the couch. Noctis drops his controller, but as soon as he does, he kicks it away, past the coffee table. It rebounds off the entertainment center and comes to a stop in the middle of the floor. Heart in his throat, Noctis scrambles after it. He grabs it and places it on the coffee table, gently, carefully, slowly, oh so slowly retracting his hands. 

“Uh, Noct?”

Noctis jerks. He snaps his head up toward Prompto, who stares at him, his brows lifted, his eyes big and wide and so, so blue.

“You okay there, buddy?”

Noctis shoots to his feet. “Yes. I am. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m-”

Prompto narrows his eyes. “Has losing broken your brain?”

“No. No, no, no, it hasn’t. I’m, uh, I just- I-” Noctis pauses, his breath hitching in his chest. He tries to swallow, but his mouth is dry, his throat is dry, he’s a dry desert behemoth who can’t talk. Ignis can talk. Ignis could tell him what to say, but then he’d have to tell Ignis how he felt, and if he can’t tell Prompto, how could he tell Ignis, and he can’t tell Ignis before he tells Prompto, but how is he supposed to tell Prompto if he can’t talk to Ignis because who can tell him what to say if not Ignis, the one who can talk?

“Noct?”

Noctis blinks. Prompto stares at him, his brow creased and concern clear in his eyes. He looks kaleidoscopic, incandescent in the light from the tv. His pulse quickens at the sight.

“Is something wrong?” Prompto asks a beat later. “Like, seriously. Because you can tell me, you know. Whatever it is.”

He can tell him. Noctis can tell him. He can tell Prompto. He can do it. He can say it. _I love you. I love you. I, Noctis, love you, Prompto. I-_

“Need to use the bathroom.”

Prompto blinks. Then blinks again. “Uh, ok.”

Noctis races to the bathroom, opens the door, darts inside, slams the door shut, and flops back against it, flushed, breathless, heart beating fast. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could he think he could ever do this? He can’t. He _can’t_. He never could talk, not well, not without Prompto. Talk _with_ him, sure, but _to_ him? It was such a small difference but a gulf impassable to Noctis.

He freezes as he hears a sound out in the living room, Prompto doing something. The reminder of his presence there yanks him from his panic. Prompto’s out there, waiting for him. Noctis had left him. He’d left him alone. He can’t just stay in here and hide. He has to say _something_ , even if it’s not what he should say, what he’s traveled so far to say. He has to do _something_ , something to make this right, to make everything okay again. Noctis closes his eyes and tries to slow his breathing. Calm. Calm. He needs to be calm.

He pulls in another breath and opens his eyes.

Zegnautus Keep greets him when he does. He stands in one of the shelters, the room cold and dark but not silent, demons raging outside, the last wails of Niflheim and beyond them, at the end of a hall in a block of distant prison cells, tied up, battered and bruised, is Prompto, locked away and at the mercy of Ardyn, and at that Noctis thinks, no, _no_ -

Not again. 

*

This time, Noctis is silent, still, so silent and still, when he returns. He lets things proceed as they had the first time. He sits and watches the movie, he doesn’t look over at Prompto, he sits and he thinks, how, _how_ , will he do this. Minutes pass; the movie does too, unseen by Noctis, who sits and thinks, slumped against the couch. Thunder rumbles outside. Noctis licks his lips and tries his best to breathe, in and out, in and out, slowly, slowly, because he needs to stay calm, he needs to figure out _something_ , something to say, he needs- 

*

He fell asleep. He fucking fell asleep. Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles outside again, the unmistakable refrain to this disastrous carousel of time. Noctis sighs and tosses the controller onto the couch between him and Prompto. At the movement, Prompto pauses the game and turns, but Noctis puts his head in his hands before he can speak, his elbows on his knees and his mind in despair.

“Uh, Noct-”

“Don’t. Don’t ask me how I am. I can’t. I can’t _do_ this.” He pushes up off the couch and moves toward the window. Lightning flashes again. Noctis leans his head against the glass and looses another sigh. The rain is all he hears, the video game still paused and Prompto silent behind him. Noctis was stupid, so _stupid_ , thinking he could do this, that he could talk about emotions. He’d never been able to do so, not with his dad, not with Ignis or Gladio. That was why it had been so easy to become friends with Prompto. Prompto always kept things light, talking about anything and everything. Their conversations had spanned hours, starting from the most inane or random topics, like- 

“Pryna.”

“What?”

Noctis jerks back from the window and turns around. Prompto’s facing him now, standing by the couch. His brow is creased and head tilted as he peers at Noctis. Heart beating fast, Noctis licks his lips. Luna wouldn’t lead him astray. She had led him here, after all. She gave him this chance. She wanted him to have this. She’d help him in any way she could. And the way that he needed help was with words.

Breathing in, Noctis tries again. “Pryna. Pryna says hello.”

Prompto stares a moment longer then his eyes goes wide and he gasps.

Noctis takes a hesitant step forward. “Prompto-”

“She- She told you?” Prompto turns away before Noctis can respond. “Of course she did. She’s his friend, not yours.”

Noctis moves toward him, his brows drawn together. “What are you-”

Prompto whirls back around. His eyes are still wide, wide and bright, lit by the glow of the tv, by the panic flaring within him. “That’s not why I became friends with you. It’s not. I swear, Noct. You have to believe me.” Prompto pauses then and grimaces. “Okay, maybe it was at _first_ , but not after, okay? It wasn’t. I swear it.”

Prompto stares at Noctis, intent, breath coming fast. Noctis opens his mouth but closes it without speaking. He lifts a hand and rubs it along the side of his face. Prompto stares at him, waiting. The seconds slip by, yet Noctis says nothing, he doesn’t know what to say. The silence stretches on and then Prompto starts to shutter and fold in on himself.

“You’re mad,” he says, tensing to turn away. “Of course you are. I understand.”

“I don’t,” Noctis says. He reaches out for Prompto’s arm and halts the other man’s retreat. “What are you trying to say?”

Prompto deflates like a popped balloon. He doesn’t turn from Noctis, but he does lower his eyes. “Lady Lunafreya,” he says, and he’s so quiet Noctis almost can’t hear him. “She wrote to me. About you.”

Noctis drops his arm. “What?”

Prompto squirms and still doesn’t meet his eyes. “I mean, not about you. Not directly. That’s not why she wrote me. That was about Pryna.”

“What?”

Prompto heaves out a sigh. “I found her. Pryna. Back in middle school. Before we were, you know, friends. I didn’t know she was Lady Lunafreya’s dog. She was just a dog who was hurt, so I helped her. I guess I did because she left, like, a few days later. And I was sad but then this letter came. And I’d never- I’d never gotten one like it before. I mean, I’d never gotten a letter before. But this one…” Prompto pauses. His face softens a shade as he remembers, and Noctis can almost see it, Prompto alone, so sad and alone in that empty apartment, gawking at Luna’s letter. “It was nice,” he continues after a beat. “It smelled like flowers. And the paper, it was soft. Pretty. I thought it had to be a mistake, Lady Lunafreya writing me, but then she mentioned her dog. She said she’d been on the way to see you.” Prompto glances at him then, a quick flick of his eyes. A flush rises up his neck and down across his cheeks. “She thought we were friends. And she was so happy about it. She encouraged me to keep it up, even if you didn’t have a lot of time to hang out. And I don’t know,” Prompto says now, giving Noctis a stilted shrug. “I just- It got me thinking. I’d never thought I could before. Be your friend, I mean. I _wanted_ to. Who wouldn’t? But you were the Prince and I was me, so…” 

His hand drifts toward his wristband. The impulse to reach out and cover Prompto’s hand rises within Noctis. He wants to tell him it doesn’t matter, that it hadn’t mattered and it won’t matter and it doesn’t now, but he remains still, the barcode Prompto’s revelation to make whenever he feels ready. A second later, Prompto jerks his hand away from the wristband, like he realized what he’d done. Flushing harder, he thrusts his hand behind him, in his back pocket. 

“Please don’t be mad.” Prompto doesn’t look at Noctis. His voice is small, so small, scratchy and on the verge of tears. “That’s not why I’m your friend. I just- It was- I… She- She just…”

“She just gave you a push.”

Prompto’s eyes jerk up to his. Relief breaks across his face. “Yes. Yes. Exactly. A push. I was, I don’t know…”

“Shy.”

Prompto nods. He starts to smile, a small one, of giddy relief. “Yeah. I was.”

Noctis nods too. He wants to smile, but he can’t, too many nerves sparking within him. He sucks in a quick breath, this the moment, the lead in he needs. Lightning flashes again outside. Noctis waits, he hesitates, he waits, he breathes, he teeters, then, as the thunder rumbles once more in the world beyond, he says, “You’re not the only one.”

Prompto’s grin widens. “Yeah. You didn’t talk to anybody back then. You-”

“No. I meant now.”

Prompto blinks at him. “What?”

Noctis says nothing. He just stares. His throat clamps down and his resolve quakes, but Prompto had talked. Despite his nerves, he had told Noctis the truth about Pryna. Noctis could too. He had to. He couldn’t let another chance slip by. Straightening his shoulders, Noctis breathes in deep and then, on the exhale, he says, “I mean now. Luna helped me now. She gave me a push. To talk to you.”

Prompto frowns at that. “But we’re already friends.”

“I know we are. But I don’t want to be.”

At this, Prompto goes absolutely still. “What?”

Noctis nods, preparing for the plunge, then the look on Prompto’s face processes and he realizes what he just said. “No, no, no,” he says, latching onto Prompto’s arm as the other man takes a step back. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just- I meant. I meant that I, that I, you know... like you. As more than a- a friend.”

The words hang in the air between them. Time hangs in the air between them, only the swish of the rain outside proof to Noctis that the seconds still press forward. Prompto’s arm is warm beneath his hand. Noctis has the absurd urge to rub his thumb against the soft skin, but Prompto stares at him, his eyes so wide that Noctis think they’re going to pop out of his head, and they would if Noctis did that… if he _caressed_ him. Noctis feels his face grow hot at the thought and his grip unwittingly tightens on Prompto’s arm, then Prompto inhales in a quick, sharp squeak and _he_ turns red, and the dam bursts within Noctis. 

“It’s okay if you don’t. Feel the same, I mean. Or- I just wanted to tell you. I should have sooner, but-”

“ _Sooner?!?_ ”

The word comes out high-pitched, strangled, alarmed enough to make Noctis drop his arm and turn his head away. Maybe the Crystal would whisk him away again, take him back to the start and give him another chance not to turn into the verbal equivalent of a car crash. He closes his eyes and swallows, wondering how he can do this better, but when he cracks open an eye a few seconds later, he’s still standing by the couch and Prompt’s still in front of him.

But now he’s smiling.

Noctis opens his other eye. Then blinks. Twice. “You’re not mad?”

Prompto shakes his head. His smile is blinding, giddy and bright. “Mad? Are you serious? Why would I be mad? You _like_ me. You like me. Holy shit, dude. You-” He points at Noctis then. “Like.” He points at himself. “Me.”

Noctis starts to frown. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

Prompto raises his hands and waves them before Noctis. “No, no, no. That’s not- I _wouldn’t_ ,” he says, shaking his head. “I would never. Even if-” He stops and drops his hands, and his shoulders droop too and he ducks his head, but he lifts his chin a second later and says, his flush back and more intent than before, “Even if I didn’t feel the same.”

Noctis stares at him a beat, too shocked to move, but then he starts to smile. “You do?”

Prompto’s grin returns. “Yeah. Of course I do. I mean, have you seen you?” He pauses but then must process for his eyes go wide once more and his flush deepens. “That’s not- I don’t mean-”

Noctis tilts his head back and arches a brow. He may smirk a bit.

Prompto, beet red, levels him with a glare. “I hate you.”

Noctis just smiles. “No, you don’t.”

The glare fades from Prompto’s face. The look he sends Noctis now makes him go breathless, his expression soft and quiet and utterly sincere. “No. I don’t.”

They stare at each other, no world beyond the space around them, nothing to see but the other in this new light to see. Not friends, not just. More. As the seconds slide by, gazes flit and dip then linger on mouths that smile, soften, and wait. Noctis feels himself grow warm. He’s never kissed anyone before. He doubts Prompto has either. He would have told Noctis if he had. Breathing in, Noctis licks his lips. When he does, Prompto goes still and his gaze zeroes in on them. When it does, Noctis relaxes a bit. He starts to smile, not the goofy giddy grin from before, but knowing. 

Prompto swallows hard. “Fuck me,” he breathes.

Noctis raises both brows. When he does, Prompto turns _scarlet_ , his words again processing. “Oh gods. I wasn’t asking- Not that I don’t- I-” He closes his eyes and groans.

Noctis starts to laugh. “I know what you meant. How about we just stick to kissing for now?”

Prompto opens his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Yeah, I can- I think that’s a good idea.”

“You do, huh?”

Prompto sends him a look for the teasing. Before Noctis can apologize though, Prompto closes the distance between them. Mere inches separate them now, and Noctis’s brain shuts down, no thoughts coalesce, he just stares at Prompto, who looks back at him, his eyes large, so luminous and blue. Noctis feels the urge to touch him again. He can now so he does, lifting a hand and brushing light fingertips against the side of Prompto’s face. Prompto’s breath hitches when he does and his lips part. Noctis shifts his hand, he slides his fingertips along until he’s cupping Prompto’s cheek, then skimming lower, to his jaw. His thumb catches in the dip of Prompto’s mouth, and Prompto’s eyes flutter shut. Noctis dips his head. The expected nerves fail to come. Anticipation builds instead, the same swoop in his gut now as the second before a warp. Still, he hovers. Then Prompto’s hand brushes the one by his side, hooks a finger around one of Noctis’s, and tugs. Lips twitching in a smile, Noctis obeys.

He presses his lips against Prompto’s, not tentative, but slow. The kiss remains soft but becomes full, _lush_ Noctis thinks, and never has he appreciated that word more, Prompto lush beneath him. He eases back after a moment and slips his hand to the back of Prompto’s head, cradling it as Prompto tilts it back, as Noctis moves back in. He feels Prompto clutch at his waist, his fingers digging into his shirt, hard where the kiss is not, hot and wanting. Dizzy, crystal bright, Noctis parts his lips. A slow slide of lips this time, tentative now and exploratory. He’s sunshine warm, dizzy, nearly drunk, and he whimpers when he feels the first flick of Prompto’s tongue against his bottom lip.

Prompto releases his hand and uses both of his to pull Noctis forward, until the distance ceases between them and they stand flush. Noctis braces himself, his free hand on Prompto’s hip. He meets the next tease from Prompto trembling, burning at the quick gasp of breath in Prompto’s chest. Lightning cracks outside and they kiss. Thunder sounds in the distance and they kiss. Rain falls, it falls and it falls, and they kiss.

Eventually, Prompto pulls back. He keeps his face close. He chest heaves, and Noctis feels his breath warm and soft against his lips. “Are you real?”

Noctis opens his eyes. Prompto still has his closed, still has his hands curled tight into Noctis’s shirt. “What?”

Prompto eases open his eyes then and he stares at Noctis dazed and flushed. “This… I’m awake, right? Right now. This isn’t a dream, is it?”

The question makes him smile. He lowers his hand from Prompto’s head to wind both around his shoulders. “Been dreaming about me?”

“Yes.”

Noctis stills, the heartfelt honesty taking him aback, but then it moves him forward. He turns the hold of his arms from embrace to hug, burying his face in Prompto’s hair and kissing the strands once, featherlight. “It’s real. A dream made real.”

Prompto laughs into his chest as he returns the hug, wrapping his arms around Noctis’s waist. “Look at you. Smooth talker.” 

Noctis laughs again. He thinks he hears, far off in the distance, in the dim corners of his mind, Umbra bark and Luna lightly laugh, but Noctis stands firm, anchored, finally, to Prompto and the present. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a lot of time to practice.”

*

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](http://astreetcarnamedwynn.tumblr.com/). Come cry with me about FFXV, Yuri on Ice, and other fannish things.


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